Children of War
by bumble-bot
Summary: A detailed past of Smellerbee and Longshot, beginning on the day they were orphaned. In progress, title subject to change. Rating for violence; not gratuitous, but definitely present.


(AN: This is my first fanfiction ever, so I thought I would start with something pretty easy; the history of some of the freedom fighters. I plan for it to follow Smellerbee and Longshot from the destruction of their homes to their last appearance in the show. I am always looking to improve so please tell me what you think. Thank you.

PS: I tried to find a beta reader but none of the ones I liked answered me. So, uh, if you're a beta with some time on their hands…let me know?)

--

Hu Jian saw them first. It was nearly dawn, and he was sitting in the tall, narrow window of his hometown's sandstone watchtower. His replacement was due to arrive soon- in fact, they were a little late- and Hu was thinking longingly of breakfast.

Then the sun rose, and he saw a plume of acrid smoke marring the rosy horizon, a black blight upon the face of the sunrise. There was no mistaking the source; Fire Nation soldiers. And by the looks of it, they were headed straight for Luan-shi.

The dark-haired arched did not hesitate; swinging his legs over the windowsill, he sounded the alarm by urgently ringing the dented brass bell suspended from the tower's high ceiling. Glancing over his shoulder at the telltale smudge in the sky, he retrieved his bow from the floor and flew down the winding stairs to the village streets below. Luan-shi was a small town; his neighbors and friends were already gathering on the worn cobblestone of the town square. As Hu hurried towards the bemused knot of people, one broad-shouldered, uniformed figure broke away to approach the guard.

"What is it?" The guard captain asked tersely. Hu, out of breath, did not even need to speak. In reply, he simply pointed at the column of dark smoke, scarcely visible over the walls of Luan-shi. The older man's square jaw clenched and then he whirled to face the assembled villagers. "Archers on the wall and swordsmen to the front gate. Where's the mayor? If you have children, take them to the back gate and be ready to evacuate if needed. Go!" The powerful man barked, startling the civilians into action. Hu turned on his heel, making for the battlements. His eyes swept the crowd and fell upon the round face of his wife, Qiong, who had a basket of vegetables on one hip, and was holding their young son Xiang by the hand. Unable to ignore the concern on her face, Hu changed his course. The young woman dropped her burden and reached for her husband, twining her fingers through his as soon as he drew near enough.

"How long do we have?" She asked, tilting her head back to search his gaze. Qiong was a small woman, the top of her head only reaching as high as the middle of Hu's chest.

"Two hours. Maybe a little longer." Hu felt as anxious as his wife did, but did his best to hide it with a confident tone.

"What could they want? Luan-shi's so small; we don't have anything for them."

"They may not even know we're here, we might just be in their way. If that's it, I don't think there will be a problem." Hu glanced at the horizon again. The menacing smog already seemed larger. He vehemently hoped that was the case.

"Dad?" A small, curious voice interrupted the archer's uneasy thoughts. Hu looked down at his son, who had stepped forward to tug on the hem of his father's threadbare shirt. Xiang had his father's prominent nose, and already promised to mirror his height and his lean build, but Hu could see Qiong in the dark thoughtfulness of his close-set eyes. The man knelt, balancing his weight on his ankles so he was face to face with the child. "What's happening?" Xiang questioned.

"Ah…" Hu paused and shared a glance with Qiong. He was tempted to soothe his son with calmative lies, but he resisted. "There are some soldiers who are going to be here soon. They might…not be very nice, I won't let anything happen to you." Xiang regarded his father contemplatively, and briefly, the expression on his face made him appear far older than his seven years. A moment passed before Xiang apparently deemed the explanation satisfactory, and changed the subject

"Can we go fishing tomorrow?" The child asked. Hu smiled.

"I think so." Xiang's father glanced up; the growing number of figures moving busily along the ramparts proved he would be one of the last to arrive, and readying Luan-shi's defenses was not an easy task, so his help was certainly needed. He had to go. Hu stood, then crouched again and impulsively tugged at the silk tie of his bamboo hat. Qiong laughed softly through her nose as Hu placed the hat on Xiang's head; it was much too large, and quickly slid forward to obscure his eyes. Nevertheless, the boy's narrow chest swelled with pride and he tugged his small hand from his mother's grasp to adjust it and tie it neatly beneath his chin. Then he tilted his head back, peering stoically at his father from beneath the shade of the sedge hat's wide brim. Hu nodded curtly, looking appropriately serious in return as he stood up once more. Qiong leaned forward expectantly and he briefly pressed his lips to hers, his fingers lingering momentarily under her chin. Then, turning his eyes to the newly risen sun, Hu set off for the battlements.

--

The atmosphere of apprehension over Luan-shi was tangible. Whereas a normal day would have seen the narrow streets bustling with morning activity, now the town almost seemed deserted. Only a knot of people at the front gate and the rear belied any life at all.

The cloud of foul-smelling smoke crept closer.

Soon it was accompanied by the organized din of many heavy, simultaneous footsteps, the creek and squeal of lumbering metal machines. This was a sizable army, and all the warriors of Luan-shi knew what the outcome of a battle would be, should it come to that. Ash began to fall, powdering the city like light snow. Xiang, standing with the other young children by the back gate, held out his hand and watched curiously as gray flakes peppered his skin. He had never seen anything like this before.

The entire village held its breath as the first line of firebenders appeared, efficiently and ruthlessly burning down the trees before them to make way for the foot soldiers and smog-belching siege machines. As they approached, the gates of Luan-shi swung open and the mayor, a well-fed elderly man with a long white beard, stepped through. His escort consisted of the guard captain and eight Luan-shi warriors, their cheeks adorned with the painted stripes traditional to the village. The firebenders stopped in their tracks, then parted to make way for a half-dozen men astride hulking Komodo rhinos. The imposing party approached the mayor, who stood calmly and patiently before the closed gates of Luan-shi.

Hu watched, transfixed by nerves, as the leader of the Fire Nation soldiers dismounted, removed his helmet, and approached the serenely waiting mayor. A moment of silence passed as the two men met gazes; then, the soldier contorted his scarred face and spit casually on the elderly man's boots. Hu saw the captain and his men shift subtly, their spears and swords at the ready. The mayor's gaze slowly slid downward, lingered, then returned to fix themselves unabashedly on the soldier's face. He said nothing, only waited.

"Open the gates." The Fire Nation soldier commanded, waving his hand as if in annoyance. "We need food and beds."

"I believe we can spare some provisions for a night or two." The mayor said carefully. "But as you can see--"

"I don't think you understand me, _sir_." The larger man spat venomously. "This is not your town anymore. It belongs to the Fire Nation."

"If it's food, weapons, or information you seek, I assure Luan-shi is not the place to stop. We have enough to care for ourselves, but little else, and we mind our own business."

"Then we will take what you have, and you will be grateful to give it." The soldier growled. The mayor opened his mouth to respond, but once again he was interrupted. "If you turn us away, none of you will live to see another sunrise. I can promise you that."

Hu swallowed hard, peering down the wooden shaft of his arrow with one eye closed. He knew the solider spoke the truth; if the mayor did not open the gates, the six score poorly-armed farmers of Luan-shi did not have a chance in hell against half a legion of war-hardened firebenders and soldiers. But the other option was equally grim; slow starvation, body and spirit crushed gradually beneath the metallic heel of a Fire Nation occupation. Hu had heard all the stomach-turning tales of cruelty and violence in Liang, Nohara, and Atu, when Fire Nation soldiers had chosen to make their home in those Earth Kingdom cities. When it came down to the choice between long, dismal years spent in servitude to the callous fire soldiers, or a swift warrior's death, Hu knew which one he preferred.

And so, it appeared, did the mayor. A breathless silence seemed to stretch on forever, and then the old man raised his hand, his thumb and two fingers extended. The signal to attack. The archers recognized it, and so did the invaders. Enraged by the defiance, the enemy officer drew his sword and, with a sadistic roar, swung it downwards towards the mayor. At the same time, Hu loosed his arrow. It buried itself just above the dark red plates of the attacker's armor, in the vulnerable spot where his neck met his shoulder.

The man fell to his knees, fruitlessly trying to stem the flow of blood with his hands. As he collapsed, face down, in the long grass, his men spilled from the cover of the trees and surged towards the gates, heralded by the ascending clamor of war. Hu nocked another arrow and took aim.

--

On the far side of the small town, Qiong and the other parents heard the cries and clashes of battle. Unconsciously, she gripped Xiang's hand so tightly that the boy grunted in discomfort, trying to free himself from her grasp. Turning her attention to the front of the frightened crowd, she called out,

"Open the gates! We need to get out!" Stirred from a nervous stupor by the command, a man and a woman lifted the thick plank of wood away from the door and slid it aside. As the sturdy gates swung ajar, Qiong and the villagers were met with a sight that sent a sickening shudder through the crowd.

A small division of firebenders had circumvented the town with surprising stealth, and had been waiting patiently for the back gate to open. When it did, they were merciless; the unarmed villagers burned like dry grass in a brushfire.

Qiong screamed, the heat from their onslaught scalding her face even at a distance. Gathering her son awkwardly into her arms, she turned and fled, jolted and jarred by her panicked neighbors as they did the same. At first, the woman was simply running aimlessly, driven purely by panic. Habit made her veer left at an intersection and run for the modest home she shared with Hu. She burst through the front door and stood in the small living room, panting, her eyes darting frantically back and forth. An idea seized her and she sprinted towards the bedroom, still clutching a whimpering Xiang around the waist.

In the bedroom, Qiong dropped her son and fell to her knees by the couple's bamboo bedrolls. Shoving them carelessly aside, she revealed a small trap door; somewhat of a safe, where she and Hu kept their scant savings and other precious things.

Qiong jumped when she heard a booming crash, and the sound of stone crumbling to the ground. It was too loud to be very far away.

"Mom! Mom!" Xiang wailed repeatedly, standing helplessly by the door. His father's hat had come loose, and he clutched it to his chest, white-knuckled. Tears traced silvery pale paths in the ash on his cheeks, but Qiong ignored him. She flung open the door and peered into the dusty depths; it was a tiny chamber, and even with her slight frame she doubted she could fit inside. Deep in pensive thought, the woman bit her lip until her mouth filled with the coppery tang of blood, then spun around and grabbed Xiang under the arms. She dropped him through the hidden door and placed her hand on his head, firmly pushing him down and out of sight.

"Xiang…shh, Xiang," She coaxed, trying to make him listen through his fear. Tears filled her black eyes and her voice shook, but she forced herself to continue. "Be quiet, okay? Sit down, and, and close your eyes and be quiet. No matter what, don't make a sound. Promise me?" She pleaded. Xiang peered upwards, his tearstained face a small spot of pale skin in the shadows. Solemnly, he nodded. Qiong inhaled sharply as she heard footsteps in the living room. With one last glance at her son, she hastily closed the door and pushed the light mats back into place. Xiang was left alone in suffocating darkness.

--

Hu was running. It had taken the Fire Nation no time at all to break through Luan-shi's wall, and at the moment the disciplined soldiers were making short, brutal work of the scattered villagers. Hu had seen the hopelessness of dying on the crumbled ramparts, and now sought his family, clinging to the dim hope that they might be able to escape somehow. So he sprinted through the burning town, ignoring the throbbing pain from an arrow wound that pulsed up his left thigh. At first, he, too, did not have a destination, but something drew him towards his home. He turned down a narrow side street and saw the menacing forms of two soldiers merely feet away, their backs to him. Ahead of them, he saw with a chill that door to his home was open, swinging in the dawn breeze. Instinctively, the man drew his bow and brought one of them down before they even knew he was there. But they had been close, and now the fallen soldier's companion was even closer, brandishing a pair of gleaming scimitars. He swung, and Hu defended himself with the only thing he had handy; his bow. The blades bit deeply into the wood and jarred Hu's arms painfully, but at least for a moment, his attacker had been stopped.

One moment was enough. Hu twisted the bow sharply and the swords came with it, jerked out of the surprised soldier's grasp. The villager darted forward, drawing an arrow from his quiver as he did so. He was near enough now to make out the eyeholes in the other man's painted helmet; they were small, but Hu had good aim. In a precise downward strike, he rammed the stone arrowhead through the gap and felt it connect solidly with soft flesh. The force of the blow snapped the arrow in half, but the damage had been done. The soldier died instantly.

Chest heaving, Hu leaped over the inert bodies and sprinted through the doorway into his home. He stopped, standing motionlessly in the main room. The air was cool, and the familiar scent of oranges reached his nose. It was deceptively peaceful in here. It was also dead silent, but the bedroom door was wide open. The man's heart seized; he feared the worst. As Hu listened keenly for any movement in the building, a bead of sweat rolled off the side of his nose and he felt it prickle irritatingly over the red paint on his cheek. He heard nothing. Treading softly and hardly daring to breathe, Hu crossed the room and stepped into the bedroom. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone dart out from the behind the door and swing something at his head. Reflexively, the man reached out and grabbed the wrist of his assailant; it was Qiong, inexpertly wielding a serrated kitchen knife. Their eyes met and she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly enough to bruise his ribs.

"Where's Xiang?" He questioned urgently as she drew back slightly, her fingers still curled against his waist. The woman's eyes flickered to the right, towards the bed. Hu nodded, unspeakably relieved to hear the boy was safe.

His relief was short lived. A fiery explosion shook the earth nearby and brought half of the house tumbling to the ground. Fortunately, Luan-shi was mostly made of stone, so the building did not burn. Not that it mattered; as the walls fell, Hu and Qiong spied more than half a dozen soldiers and a pair of firebenders standing in the debris of their living room. At the sight of the frightened couple, the invaders shifted subtly into battle stance, more than one smirking behind his helmet. Hu drew his only remaining weapon, a small shiv he kept at his hip. Qiong stepped closer to her husband; with one hand, she reached for Hu and grasped his wrist to steady herself. With the other, she held fast to the kitchen knife. In unison, they raised their inadequate weapons and prepared to face an army.

--

Xiang's eyes watered from the dust in the warm air. He screwed his eyes closed and tried not to imagine was what happening to his home. Mercifully, the floorboards muffled the sounds of conflict, although the worst of the explosions and clashing blades still filtered down to him. Xiang was terrified, but he fulfilled his promise to his mother and remained silent, even when the distant screams had stopped, and even when heavy footsteps creaked only inches above his head. The frightened boy stayed where he was, his knees pushed up to his chest in the tiny cavity beneath his bedroom. Hours passed in silence, and then more. Xiang's stomach began to complain, and eventually, when the air had long since cooled, he couldn't stand it anymore. He opened the door only slightly, making a crack just large enough for him to peer out through.

The first thing he noticed was that he could see the night sky. The walls of his home had been demolished, just like their neighbors'. Xiang stopped and listened. Silence. Encouraged, the boy pushed the door open further and moved the burnt bed mats out of the way. The wood creaked loudly, and he ducked, wary and skittish as a mouse. Still, there was no sound. Xiang climbed from hiding place, and, standing in the rubble of his former house, looked out over the ruins of Luan-shi.

Whatever could be burned had been. Everything else had been leveled. Smoke obscured the stars, and ahead of him, the stables were still blazing brightly. Even in the blanched moonlight, Xiang could discern the outline of two people, sprawled on the ground scarcely six feet away. A painful lump rising in his throat, the child averted his eyes. Something told him who the corpses belonged to, but his young mind refused to face the terrible fact head on, and instead searched for something to distract him.

Xiang put a hand to his sweat-dampened hair and realized he had forgotten his father's hat. He bent and retrieved it from the safe, and on second thought, brought up a small burlap bag and a lacquered wooden box that had also been down there, tucked into a corner beneath a length of coarse red cloth. Then, limply, he let the door drop closed.

The slam, surprisingly loud, seemed to have startled someone in the burning darkness. A sob rose into the night, making Xiang shiver. But it was the cry of a child, probably even younger than him, so he did not hide. Steeling himself against the urge to run, Xiang tied the oversized hat onto his head. He clutched the box and bag, wrapped in red cotton, and, pointedly turning his back on the still figures in the ruins of his house, Xiang began to comb the wreckage for the other survivor.

It did not take him long to find her. She had lived nearby, so he recognized her of course; her name was Feng Li. But she was a girl, and two years younger than him, too young to have been a playmate, so that was all he knew of her. She was crouched in the shelter of a scorched slab of stone, cradling something in her lap, rocking it back and forth fervently. As Xiang came closer, he realized with a horrid shock that the bundle she clutched was a baby, wrapped in a blanket darkened with blood. He stopped, and the girl looked up sharply, her eyes hidden by her short, coarse brown hair.

"Mama?" She rasped in a piteous voice. Hesitantly, Xiang took a step forward, and Feng's eyes closed in disappointment as she realized he was not her missing mother. She immediately disregarded his presence and turned her attention back to the motionless shape in her lap, crying quietly and murmuring to it. As Xiang gazed over the dismal landscape, he also felt like sinking to the ground and crying; he had never felt so hopeless and alone.

A cold wind picked up, scattering smoldering embers over the dirt between them. Then, the sky opened and it began to rain, a light, freezing mist. Feng shivered, her teeth chattering audibly. Xiang did not really think about it; he dropped to his knees and crawled next to her, grateful for the shelter and the warmth of another human. He unwrapped the items he had retrieved from his family safe, and draped the dark red cloth over the two of them. Feng did not protest; in fact, she grabbed the fabric and pulled it tightly over her and the infant in her arms.

They sat in silence for a long time, Xiang staring mournfully into the cold rain and Feng sniffling and wiping her eyes. Gradually, exhaustion won out over terror and grief; just as the sun was beginning to show its pale face over the horizon, Xiang and Feng let their heads droop, and, mercifully, the pair slept.


End file.
